Flowers
by UKHoneyB
Summary: Like names, flowers have meanings. Whole stories can be written using flowers and flowers alone, but can one really say true feelings using them?


Opening the door to her office, an eyebrow was raised yet again, for the fourth day in a row. The past three days she'd gotten a bouquet of yellow acacias, followed by pale purple daisies, then yesterday she'd received tuberoses with a few sprigs of juniper concealed within the flowers.

Today, she was looking at arum lilies. She knew the names of most of the plants she saw through a combination of two things: a mother who tried to instil a love and knowledge of plants from an early age, and the inescapably British ability to call plants by their Latin name and have every gardener, from the novice to the expert, know what she was talking about.

At first she'd taken pride in the flowers, setting them aside and taking care of them, but when the second and especially the third bouquet turned up, she started to get suspicious. The flowers had no rhyme or reason behind them: no genus relation, no color relation, nothing at all to relate them aside from the fact that they now occupied her office space.

Intrigued by the addition of juniper, Rachel had sat down in front of the computer, entering the flowers in and looking for their meanings. On the first page of results came the declaration that the yellow acacias she'd received were symbolic of a secret love.

The daisies had no meaning with color, but without symbolised innocence and loyal love, with a hint of "I'll never tell".

The tuberoses were indicative of a dangerous love, yet the juniper sprinkled in added in a promise of protection, although it didn't say protection from what.

When she'd opened the door on the fourth morning, Rachel had done her usual routine of picking up the flowers, inspecting them and finding them some living space before giving water and settling down to work.

The arum lily now sitting to the right of her, perched on the corner of the desk, was giving hints of ardour: passion and enthusiasm.

She had her own hints of who was sending her the flowers, although she didn't risk asking, as there was the small possibility that she was wrong and she'd find herself embarrassed and wrong-footed in front of the younger agents.

Eyes flicking over to the lilies, she spotted a small, white card tucked in amongst the flowers, and she carefully reached in to pick it out. On it was inscribed the short message "if you think like I know you do, then you know who I am" printed off of a computer, with no handwriting hints to help her.

She had no more time to dwell on the flowers, as she had a mission briefing to attend to. Her last mission briefing, in fact, before she relocated to Europe for the foreseeable future, taking up an offer of being closer to her family and yet still work at the position she currently held.

Fate would damn her to have her last mission briefing with Team Steel, though.

Rachel visibly winced as she walked into one of the briefing rooms: Max and Kat, egging each other on, were alternating between ducking and hiding behind the desks, and emerging to throw paper balls at each other. Berto was sitting in the middle of the crossfire, typing away on his laptop and ignoring the bombardment the room was being subject to.

Walking over to the podium, Rachel half-dropped the mission statistics on the podium and concocted an extremely loud throat-clearing cough. Max re-emerged from the table, sitting in one of the chairs and acting like he had been waiting patiently the whole time, the gleam of adrenaline in his eyes and the small smirk on his lips saying otherwise.

Kat took the opportunity to launch one last paper ball at Max before she, too, settled down in a seat. All three appeared to listen intently, yet the adrenaline spark still lingered in his eyes, Rachel knowing that at least one person between Kat and Berto would have to explain the mission again to Max: when he was like this, nothing short of extreme sports got him back to being sensible.

The meeting finished, Berto and Kat ambled out of the room, yet Max uncharacteristically stayed behind, picking up the paper balls and threw, kicked and headed each one into the nearest wastepaper basket, while Rachel watched on as she sorted out the pile of folders she'd bought.

Picking the ordered folders up, she was almost instantly relieved of them by Max, who'd put them down on the nearby table, and was still looking at Rachel with that glimmer in his eyes.

Confused yet saying nothing of it, and not able to reach her folders for Max was blocking the way, she instead headed towards the door.

"Can you drop those off by my office later?" she asked, and Max nodded, the side of his lip twitching. Still wondering what was up with him, Rachel moved to open the door but was stopped by Max holding the door shut.

"Max, what are you--" she started, yelping despite herself as Max grabbed her around the waist, spun them both around one-eighty degrees and pinned Rachel up against the wall, his chest up against hers and her wrists secured to the wall with his own hands.

"Max, what kind of stunt are you--" once again, a sentence started which was never finished. Max pressed his lips against Rachel's, slow and careful at first, then more probing, inquisitive as time went on.

After not even half a minute Max pulled away, the adrenaline gone and replaced with remorse. He stepped back, his hands still around Rachel's wrists and as such succeeded in pulling her towards him.

"I'm…I…Sorry, Rach," he said, letting go of her arms so quickly that they couldn't have dropped more quickly than if he had pushed her away. "I'll drop these folders off at your office," he added, scooping the afore-mentioned folders up and disappearing out of the door.

The door swung back, the polished metal acting as a makeshift mirror, giving Rachel a glimpse at what she looked like. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips slightly swollen, yet her eyes carried none of the romance or lust that would normally accompany a kiss: no, she had a startled rabbit look, the same she had when she was fifteen and bought her first boyfriend home to a supposedly empty house.

They'd started kissing, nothing more, when her father burst in on them, demanding, no, _yelling_ at the boy to get out of his house, and just let Rachel dare bring another boy home with her.

Snapping herself out of her reverie, Rachel walked out of the room and through the corridors to her office where, true to form, her folders were sitting on the desk, already divided into three neat piles. Evidently, as a form of reconciliation, Max had started sorting out the folders, but had worried about when Rachel would turn up, so had just divided them into three piles and left.

Taking a deep breath, Rachel settled down at her desk, ignoring the flowers scattered around, now almost a hundred percent sure who had sent them.

The next morning Rachel came in early, and yet she still didn't arrive before the flowers did. This time being a bouquet of purple hyacinths with buttercups: "I'm sorry, I was acting childish, can you forgive me?"

Not surprisingly, Rachel was unable to find herself concentrating on her work very much: her eyes continually slid to the flowers, their meanings engrained in her mind for all eternity and, when her mind wasn't occupied by the flowers, it was instead thinking back to yesterday's kiss.

In the almost two years she'd known Max they'd kissed twice, and neither were under circumstances in which Rachel would say they were "acting themselves". The first instance being on _Shark_, where it had been a combination of sexual attraction, the pressure of working on a mission, and Josh's grief about losing his mother seventeen years ago.

Yesterday's kiss had been initialized by Max, who had been high on life, redirecting the adrenaline rush in the only way he could think of: kissing Rachel.

Subconsciously, Rachel placed a couple of fingers on her lips, remembering yesterday's kiss, recalling how similar it had been to the one on _Shark_, before reminding herself that she had work to do: mission reports to oversee and submit and matching up incoming missions with the teams which seemed the most well-suited to the job.

She certainly didn't envy her successor, whomever they were: Smith hadn't filled her in on those details, either not wanting her to know and worry about the future of Team Steel, or not willing to let her successor be shoehorned into a role Rachel would think Team Steel would think appropriate.

Rachel finished up, putting the incomplete mission files in her "to do" box, checking the "in" box quickly to ensure nothing more had been snuck in before grabbing her jacket and walking out of her office.

She passed a couple of junior agents on her way out, giving a curt nod to each as a show of recognition. Passing by the elevator leading to the underground tunnel, Rachel instead opted for the stairs, thinking that she needed the exercise after being cramped in her office for the whole day.

As she approached her car after travelling through the tunnel linking N-Tek Island to mainland Del Oro, she took out her keys and pressed the electric unlock button, but halted when she saw a single flower resting on the bonnet of the car. A single variegated tulip left to rest on the car where it was sure to get noticed.

She swiped the flower off of the bonnet and putting it on the passenger seat next to her before sitting in the driver's seat, putting her seatbelt on, starting the ignition and driving home, making a mental note to request the security tapes to see who had placed the flower there.

Even though she suspected it was Max, the fact that he was starting to incur stalker-ish tendencies was beginning to worry her.

The next few days passed without any incidents, Max- or flower-related, and then Team Steel had returned a couple of days after the mission briefing, new dangerous super-weapon in hand.

"Mission complete, no casualties. And!" he added, putting extra emphasis on the last word, "for once, nothing blew up. I'd say this was the perfect mission."

Rachel said nothing, simply indicated her "in" box for where to put the mission report, not daring to look up until Max was almost out of view. When she did look up, her eyes caught the glimpse of adrenaline in Max's eyes, the small smirk on his face, both of which had been on his face the day of the kiss in the briefing room.

That look both intrigued and frightened her.

For that day Rachel's workload was significantly lower and, as there were no more agents due to be given missions or due to come back from one, she was able to finish work early and celebrate her last week in Del Oro, her last week in the United States at a small bar on the promenade, dousing her worries with a couple of tequila sunrises before moving on to significantly alcohol-less lemonade.

She started every time someone came through the door, caught between hoping and fearing that it'd be Max, although after the two tequilas had sufficiently dulled her senses, she was less jumpy and more able to relax.

ooooooooooooooo

"We're partners, Rach, why couldn't you tell me about this?"

"Because I knew you'd act this way when you found out," Rachel said, her back to Max while she cleared out her desk. "And correction, we _were_ partners. Until five PM I'm still your boss, and I have no obligation to tell you about changes in the hierarchy. If you're going to complain to someone, you're free to go and complain to Smith about it."

"If you're not obligated to tell me because you're my boss, how about telling me as a friend?"

Rachel paused and sighed quietly, albeit not too quietly as to be ignored by Max. She did not want this pressure when she was about to fly to Europe for her new job, and she _definitely_ didn't want to hear it from Max, either.

"C'mon, Rach, we're friends, can't you talk to me like one?"

"We're not friends," Rachel said pointedly, closing her briefcase with a seemingly very loud _snap_. "As such, once again, I have no obligation to tell you if and/or when I changed jobs and/or location."

Max half-sighed, half-growled and looked, for all the world and at least to Rachel, like a petulant child throwing a tantrum because he wasn't allowed to play with a toy, watch his favourite television program, or eat ice-cream before dinner.

"You still have a mission report to complete, I believe," Rachel added, walking around her desk and sitting in the chair, quickly logging back in to the computer. After a minute or so of work, she glanced in the direction of the door to see Max still standing there, in the exact same position.

"Max, for God's sake, you're acting like a child. Just --"

"I don't have any mission briefings to complete. I handed the last one in to you on Monday."

"You've yet to finish the report on your prior mission to Canada," Rachel said, turning her attention back to the computer. "I expect a finished copy on my desk by five this afternoon. I don't want to leave my successor to clean up my paperwork."

With another growl, Max left.

ooooooooooooooo

Max slipped by a couple of hours before the work day would be over, placing his now-finished mission report on the desk, but hesitating when he spotted something out of the ordinary. The acacias, daisies and tuberoses with juniper that he'd sent late last week were still sitting, in pride of place around the room, yet the hyacinths and buttercups he'd sent as an apology for the kiss were nowhere to be seen.

Confused, Max stayed for a few moments trying to work out a solution before he was interrupted.

"Apologies only work when the sender is truly sorry and when they understand their wrongdoing," Rachel said from behind him. Max looked over his shoulder to see Rachel standing there in a white blouse and knee-length dark skirt. "You apologised for acting childish, yet a few days later you turn around and act exactly the same way."

"…I finished the mission report," Max said a few minutes later, having been unsure of what to say. He brushed past Rachel, who closed the door once he had left, sat at her desk and began working on the report Max had just given her.

She pulled the file towards herself and opened it, beginning to read when a small slip of paper fluttered to the ground. Reaching over, Rachel picked it up and began to read it.

_Rachel,_

_I may have been overreacting the pas few days and, if I have, I apologize. I wish you well in your new job in Europe, and I hope you give the agents there hell, just like you've done with us._

_Max._

Smiling to herself, Rachel tucked the note into her skirt pocket and skimmed over the report, beginning to enter in details on the second run-through.

ooooooooooooooo

Despite the day being brilliantly sunny, the beach being completely void of people and Josh having no obligations, N-Tek or college, he wasn't in the mood for surfing. He's taken his board out, accompanied by Kat, but she was currently out-performing, taking the waves in her stride and, before long, Josh was wondering when a agent would rush up to her and try to get her to sign up to their sports team.

"Yo, McGrath, what's eating ya?" Kat said as her board drifted closer to his. "You've been sitting there staring at the sky for the past ten minutes."

"I'm fine," Josh said, Kat not believing a word of it.

"Y'know, I never imagined Josh McGrath, secret agent extraordinaire would ever pine after anyone."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Josh said, looking away from Kat. "I'm just not feeling right, I guess."

"McGrath, you're not fooling anyone, least of all me. Rachel left two months ago and while you've been the same old you on missions, whenever you've had any time to relax and enjoy yourself, you space out. Anyone who's known you, Rachel and the history between you two knows what's going on."

"I'm fine."

"How much is a plane fare to France? 'Cause if it's the only thing which'll stop you moping, I'll gladly spend my income on it just to get you back to being your obnoxious teenaged self."

Josh would have commented on that fact, had a large wave not crept up on both of them, slamming against their boards and throwing them into the ocean. They both resurfaced after a few minutes, spitting seawater, treading water and glaring at each other as if to say "I _was_ watching the waves, but you distracted me".

ooooooooooooooo

"What's a Mercury Brigade member doing in Europe?" Kat asked, flipping the cover of her mission briefing back so it covered the paper. "I thought they were strictly US-based?"

"Maybe they're thinking of expanding?" Berto offered by way of explanation, casting a sly glance over at Max, who appeared to be staring at the paper in front of him, but instead was unfocused.

Berto glanced back at his own mission briefing, a few choice words leaping out at him: "European base...Paris...Lead agent Rachel Leeds". Berto would have raised an objection, but that would have been impractical for two reasons: Team Steel was due to fly out within hours, and any objection on his part would lead to the kiss between Max and Rachel being broadcast to everyone in the building, and he couldn't do that to his _hermano_.

Instead, he kept his mouth shut, wondering how he was going to confront Max after the briefing, but needn't have worried: Max practically flew out of the briefing room, down the hallway and into the gym, leaving Kat looking at Berto with a raised eyebrow.

"It's nothing," Berto said unconvincingly, walking in the opposite direction towards the ops room. Kat looked in the direction of the gym -- where Max could no longer be seen -- and back towards the direction of the ops room, sighed, and decided to head to the cafeteria and wait there, out of harm's way.

ooooooooooooooo

A couple of hours later Max, Kat and Berto were seated in varying areas on Behemoth: Kat piloting the huge craft, Berto holing himself away in the console room, and Max distracting himself with video games, distracted and doing terribly against the computer opponent. After being beaten nine to two, he decided to give up and try and get some sleep, something which proved to be unattainable.

As with Rachel before, the kisses were what were occupying a large potion of his thoughts, along with not having any contact with his former partner for the past five months. To put it mildly, he was freaking out about what kind of reaction he could expect to get from her: complete ignorance, cold indifference or (and he was hoping for this reaction) passionate declarations of love and how she should never have left Del Oro.

Slowly pulling himself away from his daydream involving himself, Rachel and whipped cream (why is that always in everyone's daydreams anyway), he realised that they were slowly descending into France, at Orly airport, and mentally prepared himself for what was ahead.

ooooooooooooooo

As it turns out, there was hardly any "mission" to take care of: the Mercury Brigade member had just been one poor, hopelessly lost person. Upon being told that he needed to be in Paris, he'd taken that to mean Paris in France and not Paris in Texas (which is what was originally meant).

As such, he stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb and was quickly captured and flown back to the United States.

Ten minutes for the mission briefing, half an hour to search and find the person, and five minutes to apprehend him. Total mission time: forty-five minutes.

Needless to say, Kat wasn't eager to fly back to Del Oro after such a 'successful' mission.

"Spin it all you like, Steel," Kat said a couple of hours later in one of the roadside cafés Paris was notorious for. "It was an absolute disaster. That guy wasn't even here to sightsee, let alone cause chaos. We could have easily sat this mission out and nothing would have happened."

Kat scooped up another of the snails, which had been liberally doused in white wine and garlic, and ate it, while Max tried his best to suppress both a groan and a shudder.

"It'll look good on your resume?" Max offered weakly, and Kat glared at him. "Easy mission, sure, but at least you didn't have to deal with trying to defuse a bomb in an aircraft."

"Steel, do me a favour and zip it," Kat said, eating another snail, grinning inwardly at the fact that she was grossing her partner out, _knew_ she was grossing her partner out, and was loving every minute of it.

ooooooooooooooo

Being head agent on the case meant Rachel was once again dealing with the paperwork given to her by Team Steel, although this time the reports didn't require much more than a brief glance-over before being moved on elsewhere in the department.

"Knock, knock," Max said, tapping gently on the open door as he did so, stepping in to Rachel's office before getting an answer. "I, uh, just wanted to stop by and say hello seeing as we haven't seen each other in months and..." Max paused, Rachel not even bothering to look up from her paperwork.

"What happened all those months ago, I'm sorry, I know I was out of line, and seeing as this might be the last chance I get to talk to you, I wanted to make that clear."

After Max had been silent for at least five minutes, Rachel finally looked up to see the office empty and the door shut. Max had managed to slink off silently, leaving on Rachel's desk a single pink rose with a note attached.

_Max Steel, Rachel Leeds._

_Friends 'til the end._


End file.
